


Guardian Angel

by LegendarySlyak



Series: Guardian Angel [1]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-09-02
Packaged: 2017-11-12 07:21:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/488204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LegendarySlyak/pseuds/LegendarySlyak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank's dead and attends his own funeral. He gets a mission from his would-be step father which is the only way he'll be accepted into Heaven, or else doomed to walk the Earth alone for eternity. The mission is easier said than done. Can he succeed?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

I ran, turning a corner sharply. I was only two blocks away. I could make it. I started to sprint faster, my body was aching, but I didn't care. It didn't matter. All that mattered was the church, the big, scary looking one with a hearse in front of it, that was now half a block away, where a voice in my head was telling me to go, where it said I'd get answers. 

I ran up the steps, managing not to trip, before running through the doors - actually through them. I slowed to a walk, poking my head around the corner, peeking into the room where numerous people were sitting, most of them were crying.

I paused. "Good to know people loved me," I said observantly, walking straight down the middle aisle, slowly, looking at the people I once knew. People who I hated were there, crying like we had been the best of friends. Both of my parents were there, and sitting next to each other, my mother crying into my father's jacket while his arm was around her. I was shocked, they'd barely spoken to each other in the past five years or so; seeing them like that was unusual.

And it was all because of me. 

I didn't know whether to be happy or not.

Then I saw my bandmates, sitting together in a pew, but spaced out. They were all crying, but one was crying harder than the rest, his body shaking. I could see that the rest of the band looked like they wanted to comfort him, but they didn't move. Nothing they could say could comfort him. He sat right on the end, leaning on the end of the pew, his face red and eyes puffy from crying, and I reached out and touched him, wanting to comfort him more than anyone else, knowing I'd actually be able to, but my hand just went through the other's head, and I groaned in displeasure, my hand clenching into a fist. 

"Dammit!" I yelled, no one hearing him in the silent room. "God fucking dammit! Why the hell am I here?" I asked, wanting to break down in sobs just by watching everyone. I turned to leave, not able to handle it, but a figure stepped between him and the door, grinning. I froze mid-step. 

"Hello Frank," the man smirked.

"You haven't aged a day since I last saw you," I said, recognizing the figure, "I thought you were dead."

The man laughed, "I am dead. So are you, Frankie, or did you forget?" 

Considering he was dead, he looked oddly human. He didn't look transparent, like how you think of ghosts. He looked almost the exact same as last time I saw him alive. I wondered if I looked like him, or if I looked transparent. I looked down at my hands quickly, before answering him.

"I didn't forget, this is my funeral, after all," I let out a dry laugh, turning to look at the open casket.

"It is. Have you taken a look at yourself?" Adam asked, gesturing to the casket.

I shook my head and took a couple steps forward, until I was in front of the casket. I saw myself, pale white, my tattoos looking incredibly dark and out of place. My eyes were closed and the ends of my mouth were turned up in one of the smallest smiles I'd ever seen, just enough to show I was in a better place, as people say. But was I really? I was wearing a dark jacket with a light shirt under it. In the casket were pictures of my bandmates, and a picture of my parents and I when I was a child, a few guitar pics and a stuffed animal with a guitar. "What do you want, Adam?" I asked finally, turning around and facing the older man.

"I don't want anything. You on the other hand want answers," the man, Adam, said, smirking. "You want to know why you're here, what you're supposed to do, don't you?"

I nodded slowly, watching the man. How did he know what I wanted? 'He might've heard you ask 'Why the hell am I here?' dumbass' "How can you see me?" I asked suddenly, "no one else can see or hear me."

"I'm dead, like you," the man said slowly, like I was stupid, sitting on the edge of a pew, "dead people can see and hear each other. Now, do you want to know why we're both here or can I leave?"

"Yes, tell me," I said.

"Well, as you know, you're dead, but you're nothing but a spirit at the moment. You haven't been accepted into Heaven yet-"

I interrupted, "Then why not send me to Hell?"

The man laughed, "Hell doesn't exist. It's a story to tell people so they be good and behave. Makes life easier on the big guy, although there's still some idiots who don't care if they get sent to Hell, but they still get this opportunity, just like everyone else," he was rambling, delaying the reason I was here. "As I was saying, you haven't been accepted into Heaven yet. You have to go through a test, to show you're worthy of it. It's not an impossible test, but it's in no means easy. Sure, many have passed it, including me, but there's also others who haven't. Doomed to walk the Earth dealing with the guilt. Those are the spirits that haunt people."

"A test? I didn't study." I joked.

The man shot me a look, and I shrunk back. "You can't study for this type of thing."

"I was joking. You never knew how to take a joke, did you Adam?" I said, rolling my eyes.

"I guess you don't want to know what you have to do then. I guess I'll be going. Have fun wandering the Earth alone for the rest of eternity!" 

"Wait, no! I want to know! Tell me!" I practically yelled at Adam, who had been my mom's boyfriend for the longest time, and almost became my stepdad before he died of a heart attack. They'd never gotten along, and it looked like even death hasn't changed that. "Please tell me."

Adam looked over to where my mom sat. That's when I realized I couldn't hear anything that wasn't myself or Adam. I couldn't hear the crying, the pastor speaking, or anything. I could only see it.

"You have to comfort the one who misses you most. You have to get him to move on, to be happy, move him out of his depression. You have to show him you're in a better place, and that you'll see him soon." Adam was still looking at my mom. When he first died, he had to comfort her. Watch her be miserable, miss him and almost killed herself. Seeing her now reminded him why he volunteered to be the one to assist Frank. When I died a few days ago, she prayed to Adam, asking him to take care of her baby boy. Even though she couldn't hear him, he promised.

Even in death he still loved her.

"How can I do that?" I asked, "I can't touch anyone! They can't hear me or see me!" To make a point, I walked over to a person - my distant cousin - and started hitting him repeatedly, my hands only going through. 

"You'll be able to interact on some level with him. Have you ever watched a horror movie with ghosts and stuff moves, crashes, breaks, and people think they hear voices? It's like that. You just have to figure out how to do that on your own, since I'm not allowed to help you with that, but I can tell you it takes focus."

"Okay..." I said, unsure of how to make of this. This wasn't how I pictured death. I pictured that you die and are automatically in heaven. Nothing else. "We're talking about the same 'he', just to clear some of this up."

"Yes we are." 

"Okay, and how will I know when I've comforted him enough?"

Adam looked at I, locking eyes with him. "The world will melt around you. You'll see everything bad that's ever happened to you pass before your eyes, to disappear forever. Then you'll blackout and wake up at the Pearly Gates in front of the big guy to get your angel wings."

I thought for a moment, taking it all in. "What if...And I'm throwing this out there, that I don't want to comfort him? I want to be by him everyday until he dies?" I asked, reaching a hand out to touch the man.

Adam chuckled, "Then when he dies, you won't ever see him again. You'll be doomed to wander the Earth, and if he passes his test, he'll go up to Heaven. You won't see each other for the rest of eternity." Adam watched as my face fell. He took a step forward, resting a hand on my shoulder comfortingly. "Frank, when you pass this, and I do mean when since I know you can pass it, you can come down and see him. You'll still be able to whisper to him, and scare the shit out of him, as long as you don't send him into depression or insanity, in which case you'd have to do the test all over again. You won't have to give up seeing him everyday until he dies."

"How do you know?" I asked quietly. This was the most fatherly Adam has ever been to me, and it was strange, yet comforting.

Adam smiled slightly, "I know because I've been with your mother ever since the day I died. I worried about the same things you are right now - if I'd see her again before she died. When I asked my mentor, or angel, whatever you want to call it, about it he told me the same thing I'm telling you." Adam paused, looking me in the eyes. "When your mom said she could hear my voice and you thought she was crazy, she wasn't lying. I was talking to her. I miss her so much, I, I wouldn't be able to give up seeing her forever."

"Wait, I have a question."

"Maybe I have an answer," Adam answered.

"Okay, I've been dead for three or four days, why are you only coming to me now?" I asked, pushing my hair out of my eyes. "I could've spent those days trying to comfort him, but instead they were wasted wandering around without a purpose." 

During the days right after I died, I'd found myself in a hospital. All there was, was a body covered in sheets, which I knew was me right away. There was no one else, then a few nurses came in, put my body on a stretcher, and wheeled me away. That's when I knew I was really dead.

After that, I wandered around, going between the cemetery and the hospital, not sure where to go, really. I couldn't remember much, like my memories had been erased, but slowly they came back. The bad ones came first, and fast. Then they progressed into better memories.

That's when I heard the voice that told me to come here. Come to think of it, it sounded like Adam's voice.

"I don't have an answer for that, sorry. I don't even know. The same thing happened to me. And everyone else I've ever helped."

 

There was a silence as I tried to think of another question, one that I could get a straight answer from and not any of the 'I can't help you - that's cheating' bullshit.

Adam looked up at the ceiling, then back at me, grinning. "I have to go I. I'll be around and help you when I can. You can do this Frankie, I know you can." Adam offered a smile, before disappearing into thin air.

"I wonder if I can do that," I said to myself, turning around to face the crying man who was curled up in a ball, trying to stop himself from sobbing. I noticed everyone else was standing, their words mouthing words in a form of unison, so they must've been singing. Everyone but my love, the man who brightened my world. The man I married years ago secretly, no one knowing but our friends and family.

The people sat back down after the song ended, and I could only tell by sight, since I still couldn't hear them. "I wonder if I'll ever be able to hear them," I asked myself, turning to face the front of the church. A man, who must've been the pastor, said a few words before my dad nudged my mother off of him and stood up, three of my bandmates - except my husband - getting up also. My husband stayed in his seat for a moment before Ray lifted him up, whispering something to him. My husband nodded, walking in front of Ray. One of my cousins went up, also, taking the last spot before they started wheeling the closed casket down the aisle. I stepped aside, even though it was unneeded. The six people wheeled it out, their faces tear stained, especially one man's. 

Everyone else started to rise, pew by pew and follow them out. I followed the casket out of the church, leaving everyone else behind. When the casket was put in the hearse, the door shut, Ray put an arm around my husband, reassuring him and being support for the man who looked like he'd collapse on his own.

"I can do this," I said quietly, stepping forward and reaching out and focusing on my hand, thinking of times when I hurt my hand, and it throbbed and I knew it was solid then and wished it wasn't. I wanted to have him know I was there for him by a touch, even just lightly, as I laid a hand on him, my hand actually stopping for a second before it went through the sobbing man. "I'm here for you, Mikey. I'll never leave you. I love you more than anything."


	2. Part 2

I followed Mikey and Ray after they left the cemetery where they buried my body, sitting in the back of the car, trying to touch Mikey's shoulder once more, and try to hear what they were saying. It wasn't working, no matter how hard I tried to focus, hovering my hand above his shoulder, closing my eyes and bringing up the memories of pain that I could remember, like the one from before. Nothing was working.

 

His lips were moving, saying something I couldn't hear. "Please...let me hear Mikey," I pleaded, not wanting anything more as I watched Ray talked to Mikey, hugging him slightly at a red light or stop sign, comforting him the way I wanted to do. The way I had to do.

Even with Ray there, a physical comfort, Mikey didn't look the least bit happier. Sure, he gave a small, sad smile as Ray pulled into the driveway, but it wasn't a true smile, it was a forced one. Ray was saying something to Mikey that I still couldn't hear, and Mikey stepped out of the car. I followed behind Mikey, Ray driving out of the driveway before Mikey even opened the front door.

Mikey barely made it into the house before he started to cry again, almost falling as he walked because he was crying so hard.

He leaned against the wall between the living room and the entry way, sliding down until he was sitting, burying his face in his knees. His body started shaking, but he didn't move from his spot.

I sat across from Mikey, reaching out to touch his hand, which rested under his head on his knees, but it just went through him. I needed to show him I was here, that I'd always be here with him; I needed to save him from himself. I knew Mikey, he was self-destructive, and he'd try something sooner or later.

I needed to be his guardian angel.

"Mikey, I'm here," I tried, taking a deep breath even though I didn't need to. "Please know I'm here." I saw Mikey's eyes, his head moving so his chin could rest on his knees, almost acting as a sign that he heard me. His face was tear stained, his eyes bloodshot, and his nose was running a bit.

"Frank." I saw him say, plus a few other words I couldn't read, focusing on his lips. I saw his nose crinkle, sniffling, before his head went back down, crying again. 

I sucked at this. In life, I was great at being a shoulder to cry on, but now I couldn't do it. It was all because I couldn't fucking touch him comfortingly, or have him hear me.

"How did Adam pass this?" I asked aloud, frustrated. "How am I supposed to pass this?" I scooted closer to Mikey, moving so I was sitting next to him. I stared at my hand, moving it slowly to rest it on Mikey's shoulder. It went through again, and I screamed, pulling at my hair. "This is fucking useless!"

"You're harsh on yourself," a voice said from the other side of the room, and I jumped. I didn't expect to hear anyone else. I looked up and saw Adam, a small, sympathetic smile on his face. "Come here," he said, motioning for me to walk over to him.

I stood up, moving closer to him. He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me. A ghost hug is a very interesting thing, I noticed. We were both unable to touch things, we could go through things, but yet we could hug each other. It felt like a real hug too, one I remembered from being alive.

"I don't like this," I mumbled, pulling away from the hug.

"No one does. It's hard; I told you it would be." Adam pushed hair out of my eye, acting like my mother, "but I know you can do it."

"What are you even doing here? It hasn't even been two hours yet." I asked, stepping away from him.

"I was in the neighborhood, so I decided to drop by."

I rolled my eyes, but decided it wasn't worth to figure out. "How's mom doing?" I asked, knowing he must've been there.

"She's...okay...your father was there with her. They had family over. She had your baby pictures out, and was showing everyone them."

I groaned, "Can't she just let those pictures die with me? Especially the naked ones...?"

"Hey," Adam snapped, taking me off guard, "she misses you. It's her way of coping."

"I was just joking, Adam," I said, looking away. Now probably wasn't a good time to ask, but I had no idea when, if I'd see him again. "Can you show me how to do this?" I asked finally, already knowing his answer. Adam shook his head and I felt anger boiling in my gut. "Can you at least give me a hint as to how I can touch him or make him hear me? I've tried focusing, and it's only worked once for a second."

"It's different for everyone..." Adam said, his mood changing from sounding angry to helpful, then added, "what'd you focus on? The time you succeeded?" 

"When my hand was in pain. When my hand hurt, a lot, and I wished it didn't."

"You remember pain?"

I shrugged, "yeah, is that strange?"

"Well, when you die you kind of forget pain. You forget the feeling of it, since you don't experience pain as a spirit."

"I don't feel it, Adam. I just remember times I was in pain, and how I could feel how...solid it was. I couldn't actually feel the pain. I can't really feel anything except a breaking heart." I mumbled, looking down.

"That's strange, too, Frankie."

"Whatever. Can you just help me?"

"Have you tried focusing more on pain?" Adam asked "or other memories like the one you used?" He was scratching his chin thoughtfully.

 

"I've tried. It hasn't worked," I admitted, "That's why I'm asking you."

"Well..." Adam leaned forward, "I'm not supposed to help you."

"Please?" I pleaded, threatening to drop to my knees and beg. "Pretty please with a cherry on top?"

"Hmm, I do love cherries..." Adam said to himself. "I'll give you the same hint the guy who helped me did. He said it always works, with everyone he's ever helped."

"You're stalling," I said hurriedly.

"Think of being united." Adam said simply.

"That doesn't really help," I think. The hint sounded so vague to me, and kind of stupid.

"Just think of what you did together, how you-" he cut himself off, looking up at the ceiling. I had a déjà vu moment, and I jumped forward and latched onto him, holding him around the shoulders. I was glad that I was able to do that. Mostly because I was afraid I'd fall on my face, and I didn't want to find out if I could experience pain or not.

 

From what I've been able to understand, the dead are just like the living - except we don't need sleep, and we can go through walls and doors.

"You're not leaving again. I have one more question."

"Make it quick," Adam said. "I wasn't even supposed to be here."

"Will I ever be able to hear Mikey?" I asked quickly, holding onto Adam tighter. I was not going to let him get away.

"Eventually you should." I felt a burst of happiness inside of me as I realized I'd be able to hear Mikey, soon. 'Not soon, eventually,' my mind decided to remind me. 

That's when I realized Adam must've pried me off of him and I was on the floor. Adam was nowhere to be found. 

I looked around and saw Mikey was gone. I panicked slightly, wondering where he'd gone. I couldn't exactly rely on sound to find him. I stood back up, running through the wall to the kitchen, figuring he must've gotten hungry. He wasn't there. 

"Where is he," I asked, panicking more and more by the second. 

I went back to where I last saw Mikey. I ventured to the living room, sticking my head through the wall. Even though it was not the right time to do this, I still found it awesome being able to stick my head through the wall. Mikey wasn't in the living room. As I pulled my head out of the wall, I saw a light turn off down the hall. How had I not noticed a light was on when there wasn't one on earlier, I don't know. It might've been because my back was to the hallway the whole time.

I saw Mikey shuffle from the bathroom to the bedroom right across the hall. I followed him, glad I'd found him. 

I'd thought for sure he was going to do something drastic, and I was more than relieved to see that he was okay.

By the time I got to the bedroom, Mikey was stripping out of his clothes. It was a suit, possibly the one from our wedding since he didn't own any others. He left the pants, shoes, socks, and tie on the floor, unbuttoning a few buttons off the shirt before climbing into bed. He left the shirt on, laying only in the dress shirt and his boxers. 

Even though the light was off, I could see Mikey perfectly as he laid on the bed, pulling the sheets over him. I guess I didn't realize that it'd gotten late. Not getting tired will cause you to not notice things like that.

 

I went and kneeled in front of him, seeing the vacant look in his eyes. Mikey had stopped crying. His face was free of tears, my guess he wiped them off in the bathroom. He was lying on his side, facing the wall, the blanket up to his shoulders. He was on his own side of the bed, my side untouched. He was talking to himself, his lips moving too fast for me to read them, and the fact I still couldn't hear him made it even more difficult. Instead of frustrating myself further, I climbed over him and layed on my side of the bed, snuggling up close to him even though it didn't matter.

"What was it Adam said? 'Think of being united'." I pondered this as I watched Mikey in front of me, lying almost completely still. I wondered if he was asleep yet, since usually he was tossing and turning until he was asleep.

It seemed like hours passed, laying in the same bed as Mikey without him actually knowing I was there. "Think of being united," I said to myself, over and over again, not wanting to be in silence.

Needless to say, after who knows how long of saying that to myself, I got an idea. 

"United...in life...In marriage..." I said to myself, realization hitting me in the face. "Think of being with Mikey!" I practically shouted in excitement, understanding the hint finally. "Why couldn't he have just said that? Would've saved me time," I grumbled, but was still very excited.

I quickly leaned over Mikey, finding his eyes still open, and his breath coming out at a normal pace, a tear rolling down his cheek. He was still awake.

I laid back down, closing my eyes to help me think better. The first memory that came into my head was our first date.

Mikey and I were at the movies. A cheesy first date, but it was fine by both of us. We'd told Gerard that we were going to a sushi place a few blocks away, but on our way there we realized Gerard would most likely follow us there. He didn't really like the idea of Mikey and I being together. So we headed to the movies instead.

"What movie do you want to see?" I asked as we stood in line. Mikey shrugged, walking off to concessions to get popcorn, so I got us two tickets to a kid movie, just for laughs.

I headed to the concessions, holding the tickets in my hand as I put my money back in my pocket. Mikey had gotten medium popcorn and two large drinks. I raised an eyebrow as I grabbed the cups, handing him his ticket.

"What? It's a couple's combo." Mikey blushed and I giggled.

During the movie, Mikey put the armrest up that was between us, and patted his shoulder. I chuckled, and scooted closer to him, laying my head on his shoulder. His head rested on mine. He was really warm, and I snuggled closer.

Mikey wrapped an arm around my shoulder, holding me close, and with his other hand he grabbed one of mine and laced them together. It was the closest I'd ever been to Mikey, up to that point, and it only got better from then. 

It was a good memory, one of my favorites, and I had a feeling it's just what I needed.

I climbed off the bed, scrambling to be in front of him. His head was on his shoulder, both hands holding the blanket close to him. I hovered my hands over his for a moment before lowering them, focusing on the memory. I felt my hands stop; come in contact with something, before going through. It was longer than the first time, and I saw the look on Mikey's face, one of shock, before his eyes fluttered closed. I jumped up with joy. "He felt it!"  
I can definitely do this now.


	3. Part 3

Mikey's POV

Last night, I felt something. I know I did, it couldn't of been my imagination because it felt real. There was a soft, short but lingering touch my hands, but only for a few, quick seconds before it was gone. 

I couldn't have imagined it.

Gerard was convinced otherwise.

I didn't plan on telling him, because I knew he'd think I was crazy, which I wasn't. But when Gerard came into my house and he saw a weird look on my face, he demanded I tell him.

"I felt someone touch my hand last night," I confessed quietly, burying my face into my cup of coffee. "I think it was Frank."

Gerard took a moment before reacting. "Mikey, it wasn't Frank. It was your imagination," he said, pulling me into a hug.

"How do you know?" I snapped, pushing Gerard away from me, shock written all over his face.

"Ghosts aren't real!" Gerard said, a little harsher than I liked. I backed away from Gerard, slowly. 

"How would you know?" I asked, staying away from him, but locking my eyes on his. I was starting to cry, tears forming. "How could you possibly know if ghosts exist or not?"

"I know ghosts don't exist, Mikey. It's impossible!"

"It's not impossible!" I shouted back. "I know it was Frank last night!"

"You're delusional!" Gerard snapped, "no ghosts, Mikey! They don't fucking exist!"

The argument continued on like that for a while until I didn't say anything, just simply flipped him off before going off to my room, slamming the door shut and crawling on my side of the bed, hoping that if I left Frank's the way he left it, he'd come back.

I heard a knock on the bedroom door a few moments later. I was really hoping Gerard had left, but it just isn't my week apparently. 

"Mikey, you wanna go out for brunch?" Gerard asked calmly from the other side of the door. Why was he being so nice all of a sudden when just minutes ago he was practically accusing me of being crazy! What the fuck?

"I can't," I said, wiping my eyes with my hands, "I have a busy day of converting oxygen to carbon dioxide ahead of me." 

"What?" Gerard wouldn't understand it, it was a joke Frank and I had shared, "nevermind. C'mon Mikey, let's go for brunch. There's this new restaurant I want to go to. It's, um, called Terapista. It's, um, Italian." 

"I don't want to go, and you can't make me." I heard Gerard open the door, and I curled up in a ball, hiding my face from him. 

"Come on Mikey," I felt his hand on my shoulder, and I shrugged it off, "let's go. It'll do you some good to get out, enjoy the fresh air."

"You make it sound like I haven't left the house in years, Gerard. I was just out yesterday, watching my husband get buried six feet under," I snapped, looking up at him for the first time. I had started crying again, my attempts to stop were useless. I swear I was a girl at times.

"I know it's hard for you, it's hard for all of us," Gerard said softly, brushing hair out of my face, urging me to sit up, "but do you think Frank wants you to sit around and feel sorry?" I shook my head slightly, propping myself up against the headboard, not looking at Gerard, more like past him. "Let's go out then, it'll be good for your sanity." Gerard flashed a smile and I sniffled.

He was right...I should try and cheer up, even just a little. I felt too sad to leave, too depressed to want to do anything. I didn't understand how Gerard seemed so lively, I mean one of his best friends had just died.

I never understood my brother, though.

"Um..." I really wanted to say no, but I knew if I would Gerard would keep tormenting me until I agreed to go. I wiped my eyes, closing them and sniffling. I opened my eyes back up to Gerard still kneeling by the side of my bed, looking up at me with his perfected puppy dog gaze.

"Let's go," I mumbled reluctantly, crawling out of bed, getting dressed, and following him out the front door.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

"Gerard? Where are we going?" I asked hesitantly, looking out the passenger seat window.

"What are you talking about? We're going to Terapista." Gerard turned down the volume of the music in the car. We hadn't really talked, he tried talking to me but I ignored him, so he turned up the music to an almost deafening volume. "Why do you ask?"

"We just drove out of city limits..." I said, furrowing my brow, looking over at him. 

"Well, uh, it's out of the city a bit. Why don't you take a power nap?" Gerard suggested.

I narrowed my eyes, and he turned his head to look at me, smiling quickly before turning his attention back to the road.The fact that he seemed so unphased by Frank's death bothered me a bit. Maybe I was just too hung up on it, but I couldn't help it, I loved him with all my heart.

I shrugged, though, closing my eyes. I was tired, sort of. Not really, but I didn't want to be subjected to one of Gerard's mandatory sing-a-longs. I wasn't in the mood to deal with one of those. 

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

"Mikey...Mikey...wake up Mikey..." I felt someone shaking my shoulder, and I opened my eyes slowly. Gerard was leaning over me, from the passenger side door. 

I blinked a few times, "Where are we?" I asked, yawning. I didn't remember much, and I didn't think I was asleep too long, was I? "How long was I out?"

"Around a half hour, maybe more." Gerard shrugged. "Come with me," he said, offering me his hand.

I furrowed my brow, unbuckling my seatbelt. "Um, Gerard..." I looked out the front window, seeing a sign that said "Kaylee and Katie's Psychiatric Service" hanging above a double glass door. I looked at Gerard, "I thought we were going to some Italian restaurant called 'Terapista'!"

"Well...Terapista is Italian for 'therapist'..." Gerard said carefully.

I felt betrayed, to say the least. "What the fuck Gerard?! You lied to me?"

"I didn't really lie! Just about the restaurant part! This is a terapista, and that word is Italian." Gerard didn't seem to find any fault in what he'd done, but I was seething with anger. I can't believe he brought me to a fucking therapist.

"I'm not going in," I said stubbornly, "you can't make me."

"Please Mikey," Gerard pleaded, but I ignored me, "I'm worried about you."

"Why?" I snapped. I was perfectly fine, I think.

"You were talking about how ghosts are real. How you felt Frank touch you last night..." 

The rational me would think 'Yeah that makes me sound crazy' but I was angry, and angry people don't have rational thoughts. "So you brought me to a fucking therapist?"

"Well, yeah..."

"I'm not going in," I repeated, crossing my arms over my chest, looking straight ahead.

"Please Mikey? Just one session." I shook my head. "Either that or you walk home. And we're about an hour's drive out of town."

"Idle threats," I grumbled. He wasn't serious, he couldn't be. He wouldn't make me walk all the way home.

"You think I'm kidding? I'm not. Get out then. I'll see you at home." Gerard stepped out of the door, giving me a glare saying he was serious.

"One session." I stepped out of the car. "Just be glad we're out of town." Why was the therapist's office so far out of town anyways? There was nothing out here, just the building, and a house in the distance a ways.

Gerard opened the door, motioning for me to go in. The first thing I noticed were chairs lining the wall, and a receptionist's desk in the middle of the room. The receptionist was on the phone, and held up a finger, signalling to give her a minute.

"-yes, I can move your appointment to four o'clock today, or ten thirty tomorrow morning. Four o'clock? Fantastic, I'll see you then." she hung up the phone, looking up at Gerard and I. She had bright blue eyes, and dirty blonde hair which was pulled back in a ponytail. She smiled. "How can I help you two gentlemen?"

"I have an appointment for my brother here to see Kaylee. Mikey Way?" Gerard leaned against the counter, watching as she looked through the book in front of her with names scrawled in.

'When did Gerard ever call to make an appointment?' I asked myself, not paying attention to the two of them.

"Ah yes, right here," she scratched out my name in her book, standing up from her chair. "Kaylee prefers to see her patients one-on-one if she can help it. Is that alright with you?" she asked, looking at me with her icy blue eyes.

"F-fine with me," I stuttered, ignoring Gerard.

She smiled, coming out from behind her desk. "Your brother can wait out here for you, then. Follow me, Mr. Way."

I followed her down a hallway. There were a few doors, one marked with the words 'Supply Closet', two others marked with 'Restroom' one for males and one for females. There was one marked with "K. Mars Office" but we passed that one, reaching the door at the end of the hall. The walk down the hallway was longer than I thought. 

This door was marked with "K.Drahnz Office"

The woman knocked, a faint 'Come in' coming from the other side. The receptionist opened the door, stepping in only enough for me to go.

"Your ten o'clock is here, miss," she said, smiling at me.

I looked around the office, it wasn't small but it wasn't terribly huge either. There was a couch, not like a stereotypical therapist couch, but it was like one you find in your living room at home. Across from the couch was a coffee table, and a chair. Then the far wall was lined with bookshelves, which were barely full of books. There were actually just about as many picture frames on the bookshelves as there were books. There was also a desk. It was a dark wood with a big chair behind it. There was a laptop sitting in the middle of the desk, a few more picture frames lining the outer edge of the desk. The wall behind the desk was a huge window, curtains resting on the edge. 

Whoever was sitting in the chair turned around from the window to face us. She smiled, her brown hair looking really dark against her pale skin. She stood up, walking towards us. "Hello, I'm Kaylee Drahnz." She offered her hand and I shook it after a second. She ushered me in, pushing me lightly towards the couch before saying "Thank you Emily," to the blonde, who left, shutting the door behind her.

"So, Mr..." she trailed, sitting in the chair across from the couch, picking up a notebook from the coffee table in front of her. I sat on the couch reluctantly.

"Mikey Way."

"Ah yes. Well Mikey," she leaned forward, having to push some stray strands of hair behind her ear, "how are you today? Is this your first therapy appointment?"

"I'm fine. And yes, first therapy appointment ever." I said, and she scribbled a few words down as I spoke. I started liking this less and less as the seconds ticked by. I didn't like the way she looked at me, waiting for me to say something.

"So, Mikey, why don't you tell me why you're here?" she started, offering a smile. She was smiling a lot, I didn't like it. The room was silent for numerous, agonizingly long seconds. It was clear she was waiting for me to speak and I sighed, giving up.

"My brother brought me here under false pretenses. He said we were going to a restaurant." 

"Is there a reason why your brother brought you here?" she asked, her pen poised over her paper. She looked up at me expectantly, and I looked away from her, looking over at the bookcase instead.

"He thinks I'm crazy," I said simply. There were sure a lot of picture frames on those bookshelves...

"Any reason why he would think that?" 

I didn't answer that time, refusing to. It was a few minutes before she gave up on making me speak.

"Would you feel more comfortable talking to me if you knew more about me?" she asked and I shrugged, turning my attention back to her. "I'm Kaylee, and I've been a therapist for around three years. I noticed you were looking at my pictures." No duh, that's one of the only things I can look at, I thought. "They're mostly of my girlfriend and I. Her name is Katelyn and we've been together almost five years, I believe it is," she paused, watching my expression. "You can walk around the room if you wish, Mikey. You don't have to sit on the couch the whole session."

I stood up warily, her eyes on me as I walked over to her bookshelves. I saw her and her girlfriend in most of the pictures. Some were of dogs, others were of what I guess would be other relatives or friends. "She's really beautiful," I said, turning back to her. She smiled.

"She is." I heard the sound of her getting out of her chair and I saw her next to me. "These are our dogs, Rayray and Frankito," I took in a sharp breath, biting my bottom lip so I wouldn't start to cry. I was so emotional, whenever I heard his name I wanted to cry. "Is there something wrong?"

"No," I shook my head, looking down at the floor. "It's just...Frank...that was my husband's name." I said, making my way over to the couch.

Kaylee followed behind me, sitting back down in her chair. She set her notebook back on her lap, but wasn't writing anything down. "Was?" she asked carefully.

"Y-yeah...He died about a week ago..." I muttered. Maybe it was easier to get me to talk than I thought. "We just had his funeral yesterday..."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Mikey," she sounded sincere as she spoke, and I looked up at her, tears in my eyes, "it must be hard for you."

I nodded, biting back my tears. "It is. He had lung cancer that we didn't catch in time. If only I had noticed how he progressively kept getting sick, I could've saved him." That's what turned me into a sobbing mess. I brought my knees up to my chest on the couch, burying my head and wrapping my hands around. I blamed myself for Frank's death. I was closest to him, I should've noticed how he got sick, but I didn't. If I'd been more observant, I could've saved him.

He could still be alive, and with me.

"Oh honey," I felt an arm around me and I froze. I started wondering if therapists can even do this sort of thing, but it only lasted a moment before I leaned against her. I couldn't help it, really.

"My brother, Gerard, thinks I'm crazy because I said I could feel my husband last night."

"Oh?" she asked curiously.

"Yeah. I felt his hand on mine." 

"Have you thought about the possibility that you only imagined it?" she asked and I felt the familiar feeling of anger.

"Why does everyone think I imagined it?" I growled suddenly, wiping my eyes and pushed myself off of her.

"I just asked if you thought about it." she said defensively.

"My brother thinks I imagined it, but I know I didn't." I looked straight ahead of me, looking out of the window. It looked so peaceful out there, the sun shining, not many clouds in the sky and from what I could see, those didn't look like a storm. "I know it was real."

Maybe the walk home wouldn't have been so bad. I wouldn't of have to cry in the presence of a practical stranger. Could have saved myself the embarrassment. 

"That's why my brother brought me here."


	4. Part 4

*~*Mikey's POV*~*

 

I heard the sound of my front door opening and closing, and I knew it was Gerard to take me to therapy. Again. I rolled over, looking at my clock on the nightstand, noticing it was a quarter after nine. Right on time, big brother.

I groaned, rolling back onto my bed. I'd finally stopped laying on my half of the bed, and just laying wherever I goddamn wanted to, which was in the middle. I guess my mind decided that hey, he was gone, I get a full king size bed to myself.

It's probably really selfish of me thinking that when the man I loved died, but oh well, my mind was a weird thing.

"Mikey, are you up?" Gerard asked, opening the bedroom door. I looked at him from where I was, pulling my blankets up and over my head.

"No, I'm not," I answered, closing my eyes. Gerard sighed, and I heard his footsteps come closer to the bed.

We went through this every day.

Thinking about it, I don't even think Gerard's bothered to find work since Frank's funeral. Does he just think money from the band will hold him over? Considering we're not planning on being a band anymore; it just wouldn't be the same without Frank. Plus, I don't think I could do it anymore.

Thinking about work, I need to get some sort of a job.

Maybe I can work at the funeral home. Be surrounded by dead people. Sounds ideal to me.

While I was off in thought, Gerard had pulled my blankets away, and was throwing clothes at me from my closet. In two, maybe three weeks, I haven't picked out my clothes once. Gerard always threw a shirt and pants at me before I even got out of bed. He was starting to act more like my mother or caretaker than my brother. Next thing I know, I'll be walking to the kitchen for breakfast and Gerard will be cooking eggs in a pink bathrobe, and his hair in curlers, just like our mom did.

That would be a sight.

"We gotta go, Mikey," Gerard said, breaking into my thoughts again, "or we'll be late."

"What's the rush? We have over an hour until I have to be there." I grumbled, sitting up and grabbing the shirt. It was my "Don't Google Yourself" shirt that I thought I'd lost forever ago. Just shows how far I actually dig in my closet. "I don't want to wear this shirt."

"It takes over half an hour to get there, plus I was hoping to get some form of breakfast on our way out." Gerard started shuffling through my dresser, ignoring me, and grabbing a pair of socks and boxers and throwing them at me. He was really annoying me. I was surprised he hadn't started dressing me himself yet.

"I don't want to wear this shirt, Gerard," I said again, throwing the shirt at him for emphasis. 

"Too damn bad. Put the shirt on and let's go," Gerard grabbed the shirt from where it fell on the floor and threw it back at me. 

"I'm not wearing it!" I yelled, throwing it to the other side of the room. "I'm sick of you picking out my clothes, Gerard!"

"Get dressed!" Gerard said, walking to the other side of the room, picking up the shirt, throwing it on the bed, and leaving. "I'll give you five minutes to get dressed, if you're not, I'm dragging you to therapy in your underwear."

I grumbled, sliding off my bed as he shut the door. I walked over to my closet, disregarding the clothes Gerard picked out. I found my "Mikey Fuckin Way" shirt and grabbed that, pulling it over my head. I found a pair of dark skinny jeans, and put them on. I grabbed my black and grey striped hoodie off the back of the closet door before leaving and throwing it onto my bed as I walked over to the master bathroom to brush my hair quickly, just wanting to get the knots out, and to relieve myself. When Gerard came into my room, unannounced and certainly uninvited, I was sitting on the edge of my bed, lacing my boots up.

"You're not wearing the clothes I picked out for you." Gerard said, sounding annoyed. 

"I don't need you picking out my clothes, I'm not a kid," I snapped. Shouldn't he be happy that I was doing something aside from laying in bed crying? "What does it matter to you what I wear anyways?"

Gerard didn't say anything, the room silent as I finished lacing up my boots. I stood up, grabbing my hoodie and zipping it up partially up my torso. "Let's go."

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

Gerard stopped at McDonald's for breakfast, getting two coffees and a couple Egg McMuffins. I held my coffee in my hands, looking out the window as we drove, Gerard eating and driving at the same time.

Neither of us were talking, the music turned up loud like it was everyday. We never really had much to say to each other anymore.

"Why do I have to go to therapy anyways?" I finally asked, turning down the music to get his attention.

"Because I worry about you," he said, taking a drink of his coffee.

"Why?" I asked, "I don't need you to take care of me."

Gerard didn't say anything, just continued driving, turning the music back up.

I saw the building come into sight a few minutes, and I took a drink of my coffee, finishing it off just as he pulled into the parking lot. I saw a different car than I usually did there, coming every day like I have, and you get to know cars. 

"Get out," Gerard said suddenly, turning the radio off. I looked over at the radio clock, I didn't have to be there for at least another twenty minutes. I looked at Gerard, giving him a questioning look. "I have to meet someone," he paused, "I probably won't finish in time, but Ray will be here to pick you up."

I sighed, getting out of the car and slamming the door shut, a gesture he sure didn't appreciate. I stopped on the sidewalk outside the front door, looking up at the sky. There were some dark clouds over the horizon, the kind that didn't look too friendly or welcoming, and sure as hell not pretty clouds, like fluffy white ones you stare at and see images in. No, they were grey blobs.

I noticed Gerard sitting in the parking lot, waiting for me to go in before leaving. If he was so worried I'd skip, why wouldn't he just hold my hand and take me in? He's already acting like my mother. I wonder how many times I can say that in a day.

I finally walked inside, noticing Emily, the receptionist talking to someone I hadn't seen before, not that I'd seen a lot of people there before. No one really wanted to go to a therapist that was so far out of town unless they were that desperate. 

"Ah, hello Mikey," Emily said, looking away from the woman who was next to her desk. "You're early." 

"Yep," I said simply, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. 

"Well, Kaylee's not in yet-"

"I'm sure she was up all night with that girlfriend of hers," the stranger said, laughing. Emily rolled her eyes, but chuckled lightly. 

"Mikey, this is Katie Mars, the other therapist that works here," she said, noticing my confusion, "she just got back from vacation."

"That's me," the woman, Katie said, offering me her hand to shake. I stared at it until she pulled it back. 

"Where's your brother? He always comes in with you," Emily asked, trying to make small talk I guess. You'd think she'd know by now I don't talk much.

I shrugged, moving to take a seat against the wall. Katie and Emily went back to talking, and I stared up at the ceiling.

The two at the desk went back to talking about Katie's vacation, which was going to see her family halfway across the country and how her mom tried setting her up on dates with perverts. 

Just as Katie was describing how creepy one of them was, the door opened, and two people came walking in, holding hands, laughing at something. I recognized both of them, but only one of them from pictures.

"Hi Kaylee. Hi Katelyn," Katie said, walking from her spot to hug Kaylee, "haven't seen you in ages!"

"Oh hi," Kaylee said, letting go of the other's hand to hug her colleague, "it's only been like three and a half weeks. Miss me that much?"

"A healthy dose of Kaylee a day keeps me running," Katie said, hugging the other now.

"Well I guess I overdose then," the woman, Katelyn, said. 

"You're late today," Emily cut in from her spot at her desk. 

Kaylee looked over at her, confused, "What, no I'm not. I'm on time."

Emily pointed to me.

"Oh..." Kaylee said when she saw me. "Hi Mikey. Sorry to keep you waiting," she smiled sympathetically, "but our dog Frankito had puppies early this morning, and we had to make sure they were alright...and they were too cute to leave."

I stood up, "It's okay," I said, unsure of what else to say.

"Oh, Mikey, this is Katelyn, my girlfriend," Kaylee said, smiling at Katelyn.

"Guilty as charged. Nice to meet you, Mikey," Katelyn said.

"He doesn't shake hands," Katie cut in.

"Well, shall we get started?" Kaylee suggested, motioning the way to her office, "I'll see you for lunch, Katelyn." I saw the two of them kiss quickly before I started walking down the hall to her office. I stopped outside her door, waiting for her to come and unlock it after finding out it was locked.

"Again I'm sorry for keeping you waiting," Kaylee said, pulling her keys out of her pocket, "I didn't expect you to get here so early. You usually don't show up until right before your session."

"Yeah, well, Gerard dropped me off and left," I mumbled, sliding in past her to sit in her chair. After a few times, I found out I liked her chair more than the couch, and she said I could sit there if I really wanted. She usually sat on the couch, or brought her office chair out from behind her desk.

One thing's for sure, neither of us could sit in once place very long. 

"I see you still like my chair," she said, pulling her chair out from behind her desk and placing it next to me, facing me.

I nodded, turning my head to look at her. She had her legs crossed, her notebook resting on her lap. 

"Is there anything in particular you want to talk about right now?" she asked.

I shrugged. I hardly had anything to talk about, but she'd always get me talking after a while. I looked down at my lap, playing with the hem of my sweatshirt.

"Have you experienced anything strange recently?" she asked, and I knew she was referring to what I knew was Frank. After practically being called insane by her, I never told her it happened again, which it did, just about every night. I shook my head, lying. "Okay...how was your morning?" 

"Okay, I guess. Gerard came to get me at the same time, and we fought, then he just left me here. He usually waits in the receptionist area, but today he left, saying he had to meet someone, and that one of our friends, Ray, would pick me up."

"How do you feel about this 'friend'?"

I shrugged, "He's okay."

"You and Gerard fought? What about?" she asked, changing the subject when she realized that's all I'd say.

I looked around the room for a bit, delaying my response. "I...he's been picking out my clothes for weeks, cooking for me, and he even offered to bathe me once. He's doing everything for me, and not letting me make any decisions on anything..." I stood up suddenly, turning my back to Kaylee, walking towards the wall and staring at it. "He's treating me like a child."

"Have you thought that he's doing it to protect you?" Kaylee asked from her chair.

"I don't need to be fucking protected," I yelled, turning to face her. "He's never cared for me like this before all of this shit happened! Never! He's treating me like a baby and I fucking hate it!" I leaned back against the wall, sliding down until I was sitting. 

"Mikey..." 

"I hate him for dragging me here! I never wanted to come to fucking therapy, anyways!"

"He's doing what he thinks is good for you," Kaylee said, getting up from her chair and sitting next to me against the wall.

"I don't care if he thinks it's good for me! It's not!" I stood up, opening the door and slamming it behind me. I didn't need this, didn't need therapy. I stormed down the hall, seeing Emily at her desk, talking on her phone. She gave me a confused look, but I went right past her.

"Mikey, wait!" Kaylee called from behind me. I ignored her, taking a step outside.

It was raining. Just my fucking luck. 

I knew those clouds were bad news.

I pulled my hood over my head, walking along the sidewalk, looking for a car that looked familiar in the slightest.

There were five cars in the parking lot. I saw a familiar silver car parked across the parking lot, the license plate "TORO".

"Fan-fucking-tastic," I grumbled, stepping off the sidewalk that was somewhat protected against the rain. I reached the car, opening the door and sliding in the front seat, Ray only just noticing me, and looking up at me from a comic book.

"You're done?" he asked, and I nodded my head. He didn't know how long my sessions were, it being his first time he's picked me up.

We drove along the highway for a while, the car uncomfortably silent since Ray didn't seem to play the radio like Gerard. I was calming down, slowly but surely.

"So...how was therapy?" Ray asked.

I shrugged, looking out the passenger window. It was starting to rain pretty hard, the windshield wipers barely able to wipe away the rain before it was replaced. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" Ray asked, unsure. He seemed really uncomfortable.

I shook my head and closed my eyes, zoning out for a while. Ray continued to drive towards town, the only sound being the steady beat of raindrops on the car. I opened my eyes after a while, almost having fallen asleep. "Do you know where Gerard went?" I asked suddenly, Ray almost jumping it looks like. Oh look, the Mikey creature speaks.

"Um...no..." Ray said, never taking his eyes off the road. "He just told me to pick you up."

"Strange..." I mumbled, looking back out the window.

"So, um, I hate to bring it up, but how've you been doing these past few weeks?" Ray asked suddenly, "I haven't seen much of you lately." I turned my gaze over to him again.

"That's because of Gerard. He won't let me out of his fucking sight unless it's for therapy, which is the only time I'm away from him except when I'm asleep."

"You know he means well," Ray said quietly, turning into the city. 

"Hell he does. He yelled at me this morning for picking out my own clothes," I grumbled, looking straight ahead out of the windshield. Just another mile or two and I'd be home. Alone. Well, that was more of a hope than a fact, for all I knew Gerard had lied about meeting up with someone and child-proofed the house.

Ray didn't say anything, the rest of the car ride silent. I was about to get out of the car when Ray grabbed my wrist. "If you ever want to hang out, or something, give me a call, 'kay? I miss hanging out with you," he said, sounding a little upset? Sympathetic? Some sort of not happy, like 'I feel sorry for you' kind of way. The way people talked to me at Frank's funeral.

"I can only do what Gerard the babysitter says." I grumbled, and he let go of my wrist. I didn't hesitate getting out of the car, walking up the front porch steps to the front door. I realized I didn't have my key, hopefully Gerard left it unlocked.

He didn't.

"Fuck," I said, stepping off the porch in the heavy rain and making my way to the back door. Ray was long gone already. At least he waited for me to make it up the porch steps instead of inside the house like a normal person would do. I opened the fence to the backyard, climbing up the back porch steps, praying it'd be opened.

I grabbed the door handle and twisted it, and thankfully it opened up to the kitchen.

I shed my jacket and shirt off by the back door, laying them on the counter, leaving me in only my pants. I walked towards the living room, flipping on the TV and collapsing on the couch.

My first real time alone. Actually alone in weeks.

It was nice.

But it wouldn't last long.

"Mikey, why the hell are you home?" I heard the front door slam shut, and Gerard come into the living room. I turned my attention to the TV, flipping through channels without giving it much thought. "Why the hell aren't you at therapy?"

I looked over at the wall clock across the room. "I would've been out by now."

"And on your way home, not home already. I called Ray to make sure he got there alright and he said he'd already taken you home. What the fuck Mikey? I don't go with you once and you skip out early?" Gerard leaned over the back of the couch and snatched the remote out of my hand, turning off the TV. I stared at the blank TV instead of looking up at him. "Why'd you leave early?" he asked, setting the remote on the end table.

"Why do I have to go anyways?" Maybe this time he'd give me an answer.

"Because when your friend from school died, Kaylyn or whatever her name was, you went into a hole so deep I almost lost you! I couldn't take the risk again!"

"Well I don't want to go, Gerard! I hate talking about how I am, how I'm doing, and everything involving me! Maybe I want to forget about everything, think about that?"

"That's what therapy is there for, Mikey!" Gerard said, almost yelling.

"Not when it's the reminding me everyday what I miss more than anything, Gerard!" I yelled at him, standing up from my spot on the couch. "And it doesn't make it better when my older brother forces me to go!"

"Do I hold a gun to your head?" Gerard argued.

"You might as well, Gerard! Now, get the fuck out of my house!" I pointed towards the front door, which was behind him.

"Listen to me Mikey, you need therapy! It'll help you get better!"

"I'm not sick, Gerard! Now get the fuck out of my house!" I repeated, raising my voice even more.

"It'll help you stay sane," Gerard reasoned, not moving from where he stood. "It'll keep you with me."

"Gerard, I've told you twice, and I'll tell you a third and last fucking time, get out of my house!" I was ready to lunge at him, really, he was pissing me off.

"Fine, I'll leave, but just so you know, I'm done with you! Done with helping you, taking care of you, everything!" Gerard stormed out of the house, slamming the front door shut.

I waited until I heard the sound of his car driving off before I ran over to the kitchen, not giving anything a second thought. 

I was angry, very much so. All he cared about was me going to therapy, nothing else. He just wanted to be reassured I was sane, but didn't care about me personally.

I was also saddened by that same thought. He never really cared about me since Frank's death. Maybe he never cared for me at all. 

I went over to knife drawer, pulling a knife out. It wasn't a really long blade, but it was sharp. I know because I almost cut my fingers off a couple times with it, having to get stitches there.

I held the knife over my wrist, tears starting to flow down my face. I started to lower the knife, closer to my skin, "I'll be with you soon, Frankie. Then we can finally be together forever."

I closed my eyes, bringing the knife down closer to my wrist.

"No!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait!  
> I've been distracted and forgetting to upload this ^-^""


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